sleeves of grass
by anne-not-neville
Summary: Things are settling down for Embry Call, or so he thought. A predestined colossal turn of events reminds everyone nobody is safe, and that the fight is far from over. Embry's faced with decisions and challenges of a whole new caliber, that leave him stuck in a whole new kind of war.
1. 1 preface

Preface

we will die with the pressure

of what we strive for in our blood

Mai Rivers

 _For a moment - one distilled and prolonged moment – everything is completely silent. She almost thinks the silence will continue on forever, and she's terrified. But it takes one second, and a flick of hair, and it is –_

 _Chaos_

 _It doesn't take long, before they are gone –_

 _Lost to the shockwaves of violence ascending up their spines –_

 _They are gone –_

 _Are gone –_

 _Gone –_

 _Gone_

I awake with a start, sweat sticking to my skin uncomfortably as the world comes into focus. I risk taking a peek out the window my head had the - _oh so joyous -_ pleasure of resting on for the past hour and I see the world is moving, _fast._

"Morning sleepyhead!"My mother's voice cut through the silence so patently it's disorienting. _God,_ she was so loud and happy, it irritated me. I wished she'd tone it down; I've been awake for literally three seconds.

"We're almost there." She continues her eyes wide, always wide in excitement. Her now silver hair shining in a monochromatic wave of color on her aged head, despite this she seemed tired. _Old_.

"Fabulous." I mumbled, my voice raspy and broken from miss use. I clear my throat once, twice, before slouching in my seat. I could feel my mother's intense gaze on me, she hated it when I slouched. She seemed irritated, _good,_ I think, _nobody should be this happy._

She lets out a very deliberate huff of air and I am taken aback at how indifferent I am, perhaps I should feel more… I don't know, sad, guilty at the very least. After all it's not like I had only lost a father, I mean my mother lost a husband too. _But she didn't love him._ I remind myself, and that's all it takes for me to go back to staring furiously out the window.

"I think this will be exciting." Yes, very exciting –

 _Because once your father dies the exact thing you want is to go to the very town he was raised in, with your very emotional mother who only ever cries in front of other people_ –

"Don't you want to know where your father and I met?" _No,_ I think cynically.

"You don't need to sell me on this stupid town, alright? Literally I could care less, I don't want to be _here_. That's not going to change because you might take me to a restaurant you and dad ate at together once. Okay? So chill." I spit out angrily, never taking my eyes off of the window and changing scenery around me.

"Well I just thought, I mean, this place is… _him_ , you know? I just I figured if we came you'd miss him less." She splutters ignorantly, her voice hurt, her eyes probably hurt too. I feel no remorse. I told her how I'd felt before we came and she chose to ignore me.

" _God,_ don't act like you're sorry. Like you're doing this for my benefit. Jesus mom I am not an idiot; you just feel guilty. Guilty that dad was dying and you chose to f his brother." I ground out, the words tasted like acid.

"I am _sorry_." She mumbled her voice low, "I told you that, and you must know I am. I didn't, it wasn't supposed to happen. I mean it just…it did. God, Mai I hope you understand someday. When you love someone you just you can't stop. God I tried. I tried to stop." This is the most she's spoke about the subject, every time before this she'd gotten three words and after that broke into sobs. It was _pathetic._

"Hah! Love, I am sure you loved Uncle Greg _so_ much." I was being mean now, no I was already being mean. Now I was being cruel. But I couldn't stop. I just wanted her to be sorry, truly and utterly sorry, not sorry because she was supposed to be, but because she ruined our family.

"Just stop it, Mai. You're talking about things you don't understand." She whispered, tears pooling from her eyes.

"Yeah, you're right. I don't understand."

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, cold and archaic silence. It was numbing.

I fiddled with my fingers mainly, tracing the curve of my palm and memorizing the lines engraved into my skin. I didn't look up until the car had come to a grinding halt. Slow and deliberate. We were at a gas station.

"I have to go the bathroom; do you want me to pick you up anything while we're inside? Or if you're hungry we could stop someone. There's this diner I haven't been to in ages, your father's favorite- "

"I am fine." I hiss, and she nods, choking back tears I presume. You see I am not looking at her, I can't. Every time I see her I just get so angry, and mad. She'd betrayed all of us.

I don't remember much of that day, the day I found out my father had died. I just remember coming home from school and hearing noises, noises I really shouldn't have been hearing. I'd figured mom and dad should have both been at work still.

I remember creeping up the stairs, and how the third step groaned almost in protest when I stepped on it, as if in warning. But I kept going. Let's just say you never want to find your parents in the act, and you most certainly never want to find your mother and uncle in the act either.

Everything was eerily quiet as my uncle and mother shot me pleading looks, guilty and ashamed. You could hear a pin drop, but within an instant the monotonous sound of the telephone shattered the silence like glass. I remember running to get it, partially to just _get away_ , and partially because I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around what I saw, what I will always see from now on.

I hadn't expected the person on the other line to be a police officer –

 _Accident –_

 _Father –_

 _Dead –_

 _I am so sorry –_

I remember the phone slipping from my hands, everything was so cold after, that moment was when the blizzard began.

I didn't realize I'd started crying until I felt them fall, slow and tantalizing. The sun beat down on my skin, reflecting itself in my tears turning my cheeks into rainbows. I'd wiped at them furiously, god what if my mother saw, that was the last thing I needed.

She'd returned quickly, two sodas in hand. Dr. Pepper. My _favorite._ I wished she didn't know me, it didn't seem fair, I mean after all this time I had no clue who she was. I'd always been honest with her.

She slipped it into the cup holder next to me before taking a drink of her kiwi flavored water. When she'd finished she'd capped it and buckled up. I felt a pang in my chest as I watched her silently, all signs of the weak teary eyed woman I'd come to know gone. She seemed determine not to fall apart.

"Listen, Mai, I am sorry. Really. But I am not going to say it anymore. I can only say it so much, and I refuse to. I am human, Mai. I make mistakes, I can't say I am sorry anymore. So accept it or don't, but know this is the last time." Her voice wavered slightly but throughout it all she remained strong.

She waited a moment, only to be meant with silence. When it was made clear I had nothing to say to her she sighed and stuck her key into the ignition.

There it was again, that disconcerting silence that seemed to follow me everywhere. It was excruciating, and wrong, but I didn't know what to do. I am so angry; I don't think I can forgive her. So for now I guess silence it is.


	2. 2 reality eats you alive

2\. reality eats you alive

 _ **i am sorry for the blood i left on your lips**_

 _ **for loving you to ruin**_

* * *

 _The sky was a molten gray, it was dark, and spanning, and never ending. A storm was coming._

 _It smelt like rain, copper too, and iron –_

 _God was that… blood? Of course it was, what else would it be?_

 _The stench was revolting, and gross, and –_

 _Why? God, why was there so much blood?_

 _It was loud and chaotic here, screaming, so much screaming. The pain was white hot, and… and… mine –_

 _Always mine._

 _It was agonizing, and it was like this was all I'd ever known, all I'd ever be able to know. This ache, that made me tremble and pulsed under every inch of my skin, drinking me up and –_

 _Mine –_

 _This anguish that was never going away, never leaving, never ending, never stopping –_

 _That was mine –_

 _Was mine –_

 _Mine –_

* * *

"Mai."

"Mai."

" _Mai!_ " The voice – her voice – was rousing, and apprehensive all at the same time. It didn't take me long to realize that the name she'd been uttering was mine, I hadn't responded, it only took a minute to realize I should have.

"Yes?" I grumbled too tired to be angry, always too tired. Sweat sticking to me, always sticking to me. I was getting sick of waking up like this, cold and shivering, but hot and aching.

"I was going to let you sleep, really, I was, but you were crying, and talking, I-I didn't know you still talked in your sleep." Her voice was shaky, and tender, one that belonged to a mother. And if I didn't know her, if I didn't know what she'd done, _god_ I might have actually thought she _cared_.

"I was talking in my sleep? What – What'd I say?" I asked cautiously, while trying to figure out where I was. It didn't take me long to realize I was still in the car. _Why_? I thought helplessly. Shouldn't we have been there by now?

"You were saying a name, over and over again. You sounded desperate, I don't – what were you dreaming about?" She asked her voice breathless, frantic even. I'd known my mother for as long as I've been alive and never have I heard her _frantic._

"Nothing. Nothing I was dreaming about nothing. Why aren't we there yet? I thought - I thought we'd made it into town hours ago." I mumbled brushing her off, I didn't want to talk about my dream, it seemed too personal to discuss. That dream was _mine_.

"I had to run some errands, stop by and say hi to some old friends. You know the likes. I wanted to let you sleep. I did, really. But you just you were shaking. I was so scared; god I can't lose you too Mai. You're all I have left." She'd whispered her eyes wide, always wide, and burdened. Like they'd seen things and for a ghastly moment I thought maybe they had. Her eyes were gentle yet panicked in only the way a mother's could be -

And I was seven years old again, whimpering and begging her to take the pain away. Instead of speaking she just clutched me to her chest, so tight I couldn't breathe. I didn't say anything though, I didn't think she wanted me to, I remember she'd caressed my hair too, her gentle hands catching on the knots not yet brushed out. That had _hurt_ , and when she saw me crying she'd thought it was because of the dream. Which only made her hold me tighter.

 _It's just a dream, mom. I'll be fine._ I'd wanted to say, but part of me knew she wouldn't have been able to hear me. She was so lost in her agony I don't think she would have been able to hear anyone. When she spoke next her words were so laced and paved with regret, tears dripped from her eyes. She reminded me of a bird whose song only the moon could hear. That was the night I'd learned that she could cry.

"I can't stop it. Mai, please know if I could I would. God, Mai, my precious Mai, _I would burn the world to the ground before I ever willingly let you hurt_." My mother had rocked me back in forth, drawing circles into my back, uncomfortably heaving. She seemed more distressed then I was. God I will never forget how she'd wailed.

I didn't understand, I never understood. They were just dreams, always just dreams. I wasn't scared, I had no reason to be. But the way the moon manifested in her eyes and her hands had caressed every inch of available skin made me think that maybe I should. Maybe I should fear what my mind was showing me. _God_ , I was seven what had she expected of me?

"– Our house is old, barely livable and I'll be damned if I am staying there tonight. I've called in a favor and asked your uncle Sam if we could stay for the night. Which he said wouldn't be a problem." It took me only a moment to realize my mother was talking again, always talking –

Talking to me, I should have been listening. I saw her visibly tense as she'd mentioned Uncle Sam. I narrowed my eyes in distaste. She'd seemed to know exactly what I was going to say because she'd interrupted me –

"God, Mai! Don't get any ideas, it's not like that. You have to know Greg wasn't just someone I – I - you know what, just come on. They're waiting inside." I barely registered anything she said, but when she'd finished my brain was reeling –

 _They're, plural, more than one, who else?_

I didn't have time to wonder, my mother was leaving me. Why was she even moving us to La Push if our house wasn't even livable? What did that even mean? Had she even been there yet? How had I slept through that?

However, my mother was gone in moments and I didn't want to be left alone, not in the dark in a strange area. So of course I followed her, no protest needed.

* * *

Their – I am assuming Uncle Sam, and Aunt Emily – house was dark, and mundane. The faint sound of whistling could be heard with the slightest of breezes, along with metal clashing against metal –

 _Wind chimes_. God, how many wind chimes did one house need?

Dream catchers hung from the ceiling as well, dangling and twisting in the moonlight. It was mesmerizing. I let my hand crawl up the porch banister, relishing in the deep mahogany of it.

It smells like rain here; I wonder if that's permanent.

I follow my mother inside the house – their house – and I am immediately bombarded by warmth, all kinds of it, roughly advancing from every direction pushing against me, probably trying to swallow me. I think for a moment I should let it. I don't think I like that.

The second thing I notice is that it smells like cheap lavender, like the candles you can get for twenty-five cents at convenient stores. I don't think I like that either.

The third thing I notice is the woman. Lurking in the doorway a hesitant smile resting on her lips, so thin I wondered if they were even really there at all. She stepped forward, her eyes – just like everything else in this house – warm.

But something I hadn't expected was there too. Scars. Scars that were probably _hurt_ her once. That tore at her flesh, deforming her face, god she must have been beautiful once.

I ached for her, I wonder who – no what – had done that to her. I didn't think I was going to ask her about, I wonder if she hates herself. If every time she looks in the mirror she sees something she can't escape.

"Wow, look at you. You're beautiful." Her voice is breathy, and light. I stare at her dumbly and a look of realization crosses her face before she's smiling again, I wonder if that's permanent too. "I am Emily. You haven't met me of course; I've just seen so many pictures." Her voice is soft, kind of like a cloud. But that didn't make any sense, clouds weren't voices. Voices weren't clouds.

"I am Mai." I rasp, forgetting that she already knew that.

"I am excited you'll be staying here, well not permanently, of course. But for the night, and that you've moved to the rez in general, I hope you spend a lot of time here. I'd love it if there was another girl around. I mean there's Kim, and Rachel, and Claire but she's four so." Everything about Emily was beautiful, her words were beautiful, the way she moved, the way she hugged me like we'd known each other for years.

"I look forward to it." I lied, god I felt so bad lying to somebody so kind, but she was so excited there was no way I could possibly tell her the truth. _Not with her scars, and her beauty, and her wanting_ , no – the truth was always worse.

"You'll probably want to see Sam, of course you will. You haven't seen him in forever I am sure, by the way I am terribly sorry about your father. Are you hungry? We have food in the fridge, or of course I could always make you something, or if you're tired I can make out a bed for you and you can just head to bed, I am sure you wouldn't want to meet everyone tonight. Everyone's not even here." She was rambling, I didn't have the energy to find it irritating. I just let her talk and fill the empty space between us, something had too. It was obvious she was nervous; I was too of course.

"I think I'd like to see Sam and then go to bed, I am exhausted." I offered calmly, it'd only taken me moments to realize I had no clue where my mother was. The last I'd seen of her was when I'd followed her into the house, she must have had disappeared when Emily and I started talking. _Good_. I was tired of her anyways.

"Of course, no problem. He's probably in the kitchen, he's always in the kitchen." Emily laughed, and that was light and airy too, like her voice was literally made of sunshine. She led me into the kitchen and just as she'd guessed my uncle Sam was indeed in the kitchen. He looked different from the last time I saw him, albeit I hadn't seen him in years.

"Sammy, Mai's here." Emily's voice seemed to filter in his ears and like that a switch seemed to have been flipped and Sam looked at her, and I mean really looked at her. His eyes were soft, and tender, and all for her. I wonder if this is what love looks like. I decide quickly that it must be, because I'd never seen another human being look at someone like that, like he was devoted to her.

It made me feel warm. Warm, just like this – their – house.

"Mai, it's good to see you. You've grown quite a bit." His eyes aren't soft anymore, and I wonder if only Emily can make them like that. His voice is rough, and calloused, just like him. I like this about him, my father was the same way.

"No kidding, but hey you've grown too. I swear last time I saw you, you were my mom's height. What are you now, eight feet?" I joke with a voice that doesn't quite sound like mine, I am trying too hard, I know I am. I want my voice to be light and airy like Emily's, it's not. It's strained, and I wonder briefly if that's permanent. I hope it's not.

"Yeah, well things change don't they." It's not a question, it's a statement, and it's stilted and awkward just like this whole conversation. His eyes darken and I can tell he's bitter, bitter like me and I wonder if it's for the same reason. If he knows everything I know, if maybe he knows more.

"Yeah, I guess they do." I sigh, and Emily – bless her soul – can sense the tension, she saves me, and I wonder if that'll happen a lot from now on.

"I bet you're exhausted Mai," She knows this because I told her, "your mother is already asleep in the spare bedroom, you can join her, of course if you'd like or you can sleep on the couch. Whatever you want." She offers, and for the first time since my father died I am presented with options.

"The couch will be fine, thank you. I wouldn't want to disturb my mother, after all." I don't like how tight my voice is, and how sarcastic I sound. They probably think I am being rude; I probably am being rude. But I can't help it, I've just been so angry, I just, I want her to hurt too. Maybe she already has. I don't care though, it's not enough, god I don't think it'll ever be enough.

Emily gives a nod, her and Sam share one last glance I can't quite understand and then she leads me into the living room.

* * *

Sometime during the middle of the night I decide I really have to go the bathroom. So with all of the stealth I can muster I less than silently sneak about the house looking for the bathroom. I should have had Emily show me where it was. That's when I hear a soft wailing sound. It's familiar, it doesn't register in my mind that maybe it shouldn't be. I am surprised at first, I didn't think anybody cried here, not in a house this warm, and overflowing.

But as I press my head against the door I know immediately the cries belong to my mother, they are desperate yet subdued. I don't think she wants to wake anybody up. I can't quite make out what she's saying, but she sounds miserable. I am taken aback at how desolate this makes me feel, she's hurting. I think I forgot she was capable of that –

 _No_ , no I didn't forget. Because I'd found her like this every single night since my father died. And I'd ignored it, I'd ignored it because I thought she f deserved it. It's easier to hate someone when you don't think they're human. Even easier to ignore someone when they are. _What did that even make me_?

I am brought back to when I was little and how she'd once held me. How she had had to learn to love something smaller with gentle hands. I think about all of the moments before this one, how somewhere things had changed and I'd let them. For a minute I am sorry, and I think that maybe I've always just been sorry, and goddamn it I am so tired of being sorry. This is all I allow myself to feel, before remorse winds its way up my bones and makes its home in my belly. I can't forgive her yet.

I disappear quickly after that, not wanting her to know I'd been listening, that I am always listening. I will forgive her, not now, not tomorrow, maybe not even a month from now. But one day I will tell her I forgive her, and hope that she forgives me too.

* * *

 **A/N:** Whoa guys, second chapter in less than like forty-two hours. That's like a new record. Be proud of me. Also please let me know what you think. I neeeeeed feedback. I like crave reviews, but also like no pressure man do whatcha want


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